Page 39 of The Holiday Grump
“That’s a little dramatic. We both agreed it’s not a good idea. She’s staying in my store. There’s a power imbalance. It’s awkward.”
“Of course there’s a power imbalance. She needs your help, and you made it clear you want nothing from her.”
“Are you saying I should ask her to pay rent by sucking my dick?”
Jackson got up and walked over to my fridge, helping himself to another beer. “You owe me this,” he said, opening it with the edge of the table. “For being that dense.”
I was getting irritated now, but also worried. Was it possible I’d offended Noelle? She’d seemed fine afterward, joking with me and teaming up with my niece. “I don’t care about any power imbalance. She needed help, and I’m helping her. I don’t need anything in return.”
Jackson rolled his head to loosen his shoulders and crossed the floor to join me on the couch again. “You think you’re being a gentleman or something, but she’s not going to see it that way. She’s now thinking you don’t like her, and desperately looking for somewhere else to stay.”
The realization fell on me like a blanket of snow, spreading a chill down my spine. I’d rejected her. I’d probably made her feel like a nuisance. She’d only stayed because she didn’t have anywhere else to go. She’d buried her feelings and joked around to make herself feel better. That was what people did.
If I wanted to really help her, I had to do better than that.
But what could I possibly do?
CHAPTER 14
Noelle
The night was my favorite kind—crisp and starry. The quiet beauty of it on top of Cellular Hill eased my frustration over not being able to sleep again. Fredrik’s office room bed was a lot bigger and more comfortable, so logically, I should have been sound asleep, making up for the sleepless nights in the squeaky doll’s bed.
In my exhaustion, I’d fallen asleep on the first spread ofThe Doctor’s Secret Babyat seven o’clock, then woken at midnight with my heart racing. Must have been from all the excitement of the day. Anxiety didn’t usually hit me in the middle of the night, but there was nothing usual about my life recently.
At least climbing the hill in clear weather had given me a signal and let me catch up on emails.
Mom had responded to my cocktail photo with a smileyface. Scrolling back through our earlier messages, I found a picture of their Thanksgiving dinner. They’d set a plate for me, and Holly had drawn a smiley face on it with gravy. My tears splashed the phone screen, blurring the image.
Mr. Young had sent me a video about nap cafés in Korean workplaces, emphasizing that the beds were fordaytime use only. I got the sense he didn’t really encourage napping at work either.
I sat under the gazebo, fingers numb from the cold, scouring the internet for an affordable room within walking distance of my store. There weren’t any—affordable or otherwise. If I wanted to keep my job, I’d have to continue taking up space in Fredrik’s store, regardless of how bothersome or inappropriate he found me.
Why couldn’t I behave like a normal person? Everything would have been fine if I hadn’t kissed him. If I’d just held my tongue. That was it. My tongue was the root of all evil. Things I said without thinking, questions I asked… and even that moment I’d tasted him. A bittersweet zing shot up my spine. I could still feel his hands on my waist, pulling me flush against him. He’d kissed me back, probably caught up in the moment. Or had I imagined it? How delusional was I?
I pulled my mittens back on and made my way down the hill. Not feeling sleepy, I circled the town square. Fresh snow had fallen, but the temperature was above freezing, creating perfect conditions for snowballs. I rolled one, then another, and eventually built a snowman. He was a bit lopsided, but I found some sticks for arms and made him a face out of smaller twigs.
He was smiling. Maybe he’d make someone else smile.
At least he’d made me tired enough to fall asleep again.
I wokeup to a knock on the door and clambered out of bed, groggy and disoriented.
“Good morning!” The door opened, and Fredrik stepped inside, balancing a croissant on top of two coffees.
I instinctively swiped my fingers under my eyes to catch any remnants of makeup, then glanced down at my red pajama pants and garish Rudolph sweater. Thanks to Mom, all my sleepwear was Christmas-themed.
“What time is it?” I asked. I’d fallen asleep again in the early hours. Had I even set an alarm?
“It’s eight o’clock.”
“But you open at ten,” I said, eyeing the coffees in his hands.
“Is it too early?” He looked mortified. “I’m sorry. I didn’t want to miss you.”
“It’s okay. Is that… for me?” I pointed at the cup, and he handed it over with the croissant.
“I wanted to apologize.”
